大象传媒

At the beginning of the war in 1939, I was just 6 years old. It was decided that children would be sent to safer areas to protect then from bombing. As I lived in South Leeds close to the engineering factories, my mother decided to send me and my 8 year old brother away. I remember being taken to school with a small amount of luggage, my gas mask and a luggage label on my coat. It was very exciting because it was like going on holiday except we didn't know the destination. We were put on a train and taken to Lincoln, which was considered to be safe at that time.
When we arrived we were taken to a school hall where people came and chose children they wanted to take. We were lucky because my brother and I were taken together. however it didn't last long as my brother was homesick and I found myself transferred to another family whilst my brother went home. I was very happy with my new family because they had a boy who replaced my brother and they had pets. They had always wanted a daughter and treated me as their own. Lincoln was not so safe. We had many air raids and I particularly remember one of the local schools being bombed (luckily during the night), so no one was injured. Our next evening walk was to see the damage. The school clock was amongst the ruins and had stoppped at 4.20.
After 2 years my mother decided to bring me home, but I did keep in touch with my foster parents for many years and have been grateful to them for their kindness. I came back from Lincoln to a different home. My father was overseas in the army, my mother was working as most women did during the war, and we children got on with looking after ourselves, with the supervision of neighbours and grandparents. Everyone was in the same situation so we didn't feel neglected or deprived.
I remember the day we got the telegram. My mother was at work and we children were clearing up after mixing ourselves cocoa and sugar(a wartime treat in place of sweets) when there was a knock at the door. It was a boy on a bicycle from the Post Office with a telegram for my mother.I took the telegram from the boy, not realising the implication of the black band round the envelope. I put it on the shelf over the fireplace ready for when my mother came home from work. It must have been awful for her to walk in and find that telegram waiting for her. She was now a widow with three children and life changed completely. After all these years I still have a greetings telegram that arrived shortly after for my 10th birthday, a letter of condolence from the king and a Christmas card I had made at school which was returned with his personal possessions. I have also managed to visit his grave in North Africa.

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